Home Alone Again
by Wolf of the Light
Summary: Sequel to "Home Alone".  Mostly Ikarishipping, some Contestshipping and OldRivalshipping :P
1. News Report

**A/N**: I've decided to make this one multi-chaptered. What I want to write couldn't fit in just one! Lol And, as promised (sort of) the guy from Home Alone will appear, but I just have to decided on when xD

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"_One, two, three, not only you and me, got one-eighty degrees, and I'm caught in between. Countin', one, two, three, Peter, Paul, and Mary, gettin' down with 3P, everybody loves _… "

Dawn skipped around the kitchen as she was preparing dinner. She had turned the stereo on in hopes that it would fill the empty house with sound so she wouldn't feel as alone as she really was. Tuning the radio stations back and forth until she'd found a good one, she had squealed when she'd found Brittany Spears's "3" playing.

As Brittany sang about three or four people playing Twister on the floor for some reason (note: she has no idea what the song means), Dawn searched through the CDs that were laying on top of the stereo, flipping through them absently until one caught her eye. _A Nickelback album. "Dark Horse". Huh, let's see what it sounds like_, she thought as she popped the CD out of the case and set it on the CD tray after she pressed the Eject button. She waited until Brittany's song was over then pushed the tray back into the stereo.

As the stereo warmed up, she walked back over to the counter and looked at the list she had printed out earlier. _All right_, she thought. _Let's get started on this lasagna!_ But her positive thoughts were startled when the album finally began to play on the stereo. When Dawn heard the first lines of the song, she paled as she thought, _Good grief, Paul. What kind of music do you listen to?_ She immediately went to change songs, switching to the next one. It didn't sound so bad. In the beginning at least.

The words made her wince a little in some places, but she went back to work on dinner. The song drifted around her in a loud cacophony of drums and bass guitar, and soon she got into it, moving and shaking along to the song as she tore apart the basil leaves, setting them aside in a small bowl once she finished. She turned the stove on and searched in the cabinets for a saucepan. Pausing to think, she stood again, walking over to the other side of the oven and pulled out two saucepans from the cupboard beneath the silverware drawer. Reaching into the higher cabinets, she pulled out extra-virgin olive oil, salt, then stepping over to the cabinet beside it, she grabbed a can of tomato sauce from the top shelf.

_Now_, she thought, surveying the kitchen. _Where did he put those pots? They weren't with the saucepans._ She took a guess and checked in the drawer under the oven. "Ah-ha!" She picked the pot out of the drawer and set it on the counter. "Now," she mumbled to herself, "measuring cups, spoons,wooden spoons … Aye! There's so much to get together for just a pan of lasagna. And such an odd place for pots!" But instead of just griping she set back to work.

Now familiar with the beat of the song, she hummed along as she set one of the saucepans on an eye on the stovetop. Taking the olive oil (extra-virgin, I really don't get that) she poured some into the saucepan until it filled the bottom, then she tipped it back up and twisted the top on. Setting the olive oil aside, she went to retrieve some garlic she had peeled earlier from the fridge. She took a knife from the drawer and cut it in half, then set one half in the oil, returning the other to the refrigerator. She let the garlic sizzle as she took the tomato sauce and opened the can. When she noticed that the clove was beginning to get brown, she pulled it out with her hand. Found out the hard way that was a bad idea.

The garlic clove in the trash now, she poured the tomato sauce into the hot oil, stirring with a wooden spoon she retrived from the same drawer as the knife as she added the crushed basil. She covered the saucepan with a top, then went into the living room to watch some TV for a little while, switching off the stereo as she went.

Every so often she would get up from her seat on the couch to stir the oil-sauce mixture to make sure it wouldn't burn. On one of her kitchen trips, she heard the click of the front door. Ever since the break in last time, they'd kept a baseball bat beneath the kitchen sink, which Dawn retrieved now. Readying herself, she held the baseball bat in front of her like a sword, her face set in determination. But she relaxed when Paul walked through the front doorway.

"Oh my god, Paul. You almost gave me a heart attack!" Dawn said, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she put the bat away.

Paul frowned as he pulled off his coat and hung it on the rack next to the door. "I wasn't sure we'd have any real use for that."

"Yeah, well. Even though it was over a month ago, I'm still a little jumpy. I wish you'd call and tell me when you're on your way home from work. Make me feel a whole lot better."

"I know what you mean. My sleep has been lighter since then." He made his way into the kitchen where Dawn was standing in front of the oven, stirring the oil and sauce mix as she held the cover with her free hand. With about fifteen minutes left, she grabbed the pot she'd pulled out earlier and filled it about three-quarters full with water from the sink. Taking the salt on the counter, she she took a large pinch and tossed it in and set the pot on another eye, twisting the dial to heat it up.

This went on for at least an hour, Dawn bustling around the kitchen preparing dinner, shooing Paul out of the kitchen as she worked. He went grumbling the entire way. He didn't like being shooed anywhere, and Dawn had been doing it a lot recently, making him get out of the living room when she was cleaning, out of the bedroom when she was tiding up. It was starting to get on his nerves.

"Paul, you know I only shooed you out because I want to get this done."

He looked up at her from where he sat on the couch watching TV while Dawn kept at dinner. She never liked him in the kitchen when she was cooking something that took as long as lasagna.

"Yeah, I know. But you don't have to shoo me out of the kitchen. Just say get out and I would have." He picked up the remote and changed the channel.

Dawn sighed from the doorway where she stood. "I don't do that. You know I like to work on dinner myself. You should learn to relax sometimes, I swear." She went back to the stove and stirred the lasagna noodles she had placed in the pot of boiling water.

Paul just rolled his eyes at Dawn's lecture. "I can relax, you just don't know how to figure out when I do." He set his bare feet on the couch, leaning against the arm as he watched the news.

"Feet off the couch, Paul!" Dawn called from the kitchen.

_Bloody hell, how does she always know?_ Paul thought, baffled. But his attention snapped back to the TV as he heard the tail end of what the news reporter was saying.

" … a string of break-ins in the surrounding area, but what is baffling is that the intruders don't steal anything, only search through house onwers' belongings. This is …"

Paul muted the TV and looked toward the kitchen, checking on Dawn. There she stood in the kitchen doorway, her hand on the doorjamb as she stared at the now-silent TV, the screen showing the newscasters back in the studio, silent as they talked back and forth to each other about who knows what. She sure didn't know. "Dawn …" he started, but stopped when she held up a hand.

"It's all right. I'm fine," she said as she headed back into the kitchen. She hoped to push the whole thing to the back of her mind, forgetting and losing the memory of it to her subconscious. But it kept coming back as she started to layer the lasagna in a pan, spreading cheese and sauce over the noodels evenly, laying another noodle on it. Tears pricked her eyes as she worked and she rubbed them away, determined not to cry. But when she felt a pair of strong arms around her middle, the tears broke through her walls.

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**A/N**: Hmm. I probably could have ended this chapter better, but I couldn't figure out how x..x Sorry, but I guess you'll have to stand this until I get the next chapter up. I also think of this one as an introductory chapter, not sure if it would really count ._.


	2. La Nota

**A/N**: Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Sorry if I've kept anybody waiting x..x I've just been doing a lot of preparing and sleeping in these past few months that I haven't really been writing much except for on my newest story, Girlfriend Doubles to Triple. Aye, what have I gotten myself into?

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"_You've been watching the eleven o' clock news. I'm Soledad, have a good night …_"

Dawn clicked the TV off. She dropped the remote on the coffee table, pushing a hand through her hair in frustration. Another break-in had been reported. It was the same MO, the perpitrator had managed to get into the owner's home while he was away and had gone through his belongings, but nothing was stolen. But they found something interesting this time: A card with the letter D on it. The reporter said they had no idea what this was supposed to mean, but they hoped everybody locked their doors and windows at night or whenever they are away or alone.

"Tell me you're not watching the news again."

Dawn looked up to see Paul walking in from the kitchen with a cup of what looked like soda. She frowned, saying, "What's that?" meaning the odd liquid in the cup. She could see carbonation bubbles floating to the top as he sat down, but it looked a little … flat to her. This made her narrow her eyes in suspision.

He smirked at her, holding it out in offering. "Want to find out?" He tipped the glass slightly from side to side, tempting her. Finally she gave in, rolling her eyes as she took the cup from his hands and taking a tentative sip. She just about spit it back out, but she gritted her teeth, using every ounce of willpower she had to swallow the drink.

"Oh my God! What is this, vodka mixed with Coke or Pepsi?" she sputtered, wiping away the unpleasant taste from her lips, sticking her tongue out of her mouth as if the air could just evaporate the vodka-soda mix from her taste buds. "You are so gross, Paul."

Chuckling, he drank from the cup, a look of displeasure crossing Dawn's face as she watched him drink half of it in what looked like one swallow. Staring at him increduosly as he sat the cup on the coffee table, Dawn shook her head at him. "I repeat: Gross."

He just smirked at her, leaning back against the couch. "This is why I don't take you to bars. For one, you'd just get plastered and make a fool of yourself -" Dawn rolled her eyes at him "- and two, I don't need you running off with some guy who'd take advantage of you."

Dawn snorted a laugh, muttering, "I think I've already found one."

Paul narrowed his eyes at her. "What was that, _dear_?"

Laughing nervously, Dawn stood and started backing away slowly. "Nothing, nothing. I just said I already have a guy who does." Seeing the look on his face when she said this, she took off squealing up the stairs with Paul in hot pursuit. She raced up the stairs to their room, slamming the door behind her with a bang, locking the door right before he started to turn the knob.

The doorknob jiggled a bit as Paul tried to open the door. "Dawn," he called through the door. "I won't do anything, I promise."

Dawn laughed. "You liar. You'd think you would know by now that I can tell when you're fibbing, Paulie dear." She swore she could just see fume spilling under the door. Knowing he hated it when she called him Paulie, she teased him quite often with it, especially when he called her Troublesome.

"Dawn. Open the door." He tried the knob again. "I swear, I won't do anything."

After contemplating it and staring at the door, she decided to believe him. Boy, did she choose wrong. As soon as she unlocked the door, Paul came flying in, sending them both hurtling for the bed. Dawn landed first, sliding across the comforter and almost falling off the other side to the floor, but Paul managed to grab her arm and pull her back up.

Now looming over her, he grinned triumphantly at his superior position. But once he saw the look in Dawn's eyes, the smile fell from his face, only to be replaced by worry. "Dawn?" he said.

She stared up at him but didn't really see him. She was back to that night, when that person had tried to … Reliving everything, him pushing through the door and her onto the bed, his hand trailing up her leg … Dawn's throat felt constricted with fear, but she managed to choke out a weak sob, tears beginning to stream down her face in rivers. Seeing this, Paul started to panic. He absolutely hated it when Dawn cried.

Dropping onto his side next to her he pulled her close, knowing it was the one thing that could calm her down. His teeth knawed at his lower lips as he held her tightly against his chest in hope the tears that were staining his shirt stopped soon. He never was any good at calming her in the beginning when she was upset, but over the years he learned. Hold her, just stay quiet, and give her time to calm down.

Once the waterworks were over he listened for any remaining sobs that might escape from Dawn. Hearing none, he pulled back enough to where he could see her. Managing a weak laugh, he saw that she had fallen asleep, her tears draining her energy as they had slipped from her eyes.

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Chirping was the first thing she heard as she lifted her head from the pillow that was calling back to her with its softness. But she resisted the temptation of sleep, pushing up to a sitting position with sore arms, faintly registering something falling around her waist. She blinked away weariness and peered around the bedroom. Hearing soft breathing beside her, she looked to see Paul on his side facing her, one arm stretched out in front of him, the other resting on her leg. His arm must have fallen when she'd sat up.

Glancing around once more, Dawn shifted closer to Paul, sliding back beneath the covers and snuggling against her boyfriend. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she felt him stir slightly at her movement, so she looked up, seeing Paul's eyes open slightly, then blink through the haze of sleep. He looked down and, seeing her awake again, started to sit up, but Dawn tightened her arms around him, her fingers gripping the ends of his hair slightly. Deciding not to after all, Paul stayed where he was, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, her face pressed against his neck. "Yeah," she murmured. "I'll be fine."

"You didn't seem it last night," he pointed out bluntly, as was his way with things.

"You also don't have to point it out like that," she said stiffly. His bluntness had always bothered her, even as children.

Paul chuckled. "Sometimes I have to, or else my point doesn't get across."

She huffed and snuggled closer, the opposite of what she would have done a few years ago. Her time with Paul had changed the both of them, hopefully for the best.

Later, as Dawn was starting on breakfast and Paul was getting ready for work upstairs, there was a knock at the front door. Wiping her hands off on her jeans, Dawn went to answer it. It was a delivery person with a package. After she signed for the box, the man handed it to her and bid her good morning. She smiled and replied accordingly.

As the delivery man was heading back to his truck, Dawn closed the door behind her, flipping the box around in her hands. There was only their address on it, no return address or name stating who it was from. Shrugging, she pulled it open as she went to sit on the couch. There was a card inside, and a single red tulip. Sniffing the flower as she pulled the card out, Dawn froze as her eyes ran over the words:

_My dear, one of blue, I cannot help but anticipate the next time we meet. I want to see you, touch your soft, pale skin, hear the sounds of your crying while I carress that sweet, sweet face of yours …_

There was more, but Dawn felt too sick to read the rest. The note ran all the way to the bottom and continued to the back. She dropped the tulip on the couch and tried to control her breathing, then went into the kitchen and searched through one of the drawers, finally pulling out what she'd been looking for: a lighter. Paul had had a short smoking habit a few years ago. He'd quit easily, only because Dawn had always nagged at him each time he had pulled a cigarette out.

Flicking the catch, she held the card over the trashcan, lighting it. Watching as the small flame licked at the card, making it brown as it started to curl in on itself and steadily turning to ash, Dawn felt tears prick at the back of her eyes as she saw the last line on the back of the burning card: _I'll be back soon._ She rubbed the tears away, determined to not be scared. But when the smoke detector started blaring, she yelped, dropping the card to the floor, still flaming. She hurried over to the smoke detector, grabbing a dish towel from the oven door handle and waved it in the direction of the sensitive device. It helped, but only slightly.

From the stairs, stomping could be heard as Paul rushed down the stairs. Looking wildly around the kitchen, he saw Dawn flapping at the detector with the dish towel, but she was too short to reach it. He crossed the kitchen quickly and reached over her head to hit the reset button set into the cover.

The beeping stopped immediately, and Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad that was over. She was about to thank Paul, but stopped when she heard him curse and hurry over to the trashcan. Turning, she saw him stamping out the small fire the card had left behind on the linoleum floor. She winced each time his booted foot hit the floor in an attempt to smother the miniature flames. Once he'd taken care of it, he bent over, picking up the small piece of card, the only piece left.

As he peered at it, he glanced up at Dawn, a question in his eyes. _Why did you set this on fire?_ they said. She had to look away, too afraid to tell him the truth. From her reaction he managed to pick up on something. He walked over to her and held up a hand. She looked up at him, from his face to his hand and back. When she finally understood, she raised her own, running her fingers across his palm before entwining her fingers with his, smiling slightly. He returned it with his own slight smile.

"Dawn, what's the matter?" he asked, his face going serious. He voiced the question she'd seen in his eyes. "Why did you set this card on fire?" He held up what remained of said card, just a small scrap only about the size of a peanut, brown and curling at the edges.

Looking away, Dawn muttered an answer. She kept her eyes on the floor, not even looking up when Paul started toward her. Or when he made her look at him by lifting her chin with a finger. "Tell me."

The expression on his face was breaking her heart. He looked so worried, one of the few times he'd really show anything, besides brief actions of … let's say affection. She could feel her walls of defense breaking under his gaze, so much that tears started pooling in her eyes again as she tried not to choke out a sob that wanted to be heard. But after a few moments she couldn't fight it anymore, the tears finally breaking through.

"He, he said," she sobbed, "h-he's coming back!" With each word her voice rose until she was almost shrieking. She threw her arms around Paul's neck and began to cry on his shoulder, or at least to where she could reach.

Paul was shocked beyond belief. His arms wrapped around Dawn's waist mechanically, like he wasn't even the one controlling them. As his mind sort of drifted, he closed his eyes as he remembered: a man with a knife in their kitchen, Dawn shooting out from under the kitchen table in an attempt to keep him out of danger, the slight pain in his cheek when the intruder had managed to knick him with the knife. With each memory his anger grew, which caused his arms to tighten around Dawn, but not enough to cause pain. He had more self-control than that. But right then and there, he felt like he was powerless as the blunette cried into his jacket in fear.

_I promise you Dawn_, he swore in his head, _I WILL protect you this time.__

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_**A/N**: I don't really have anything to say after this except how did I do? Breaks from writing isn't the best thing -_-"

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! _Por favor y gracias amigos!_ (^_^)v (Spanish pays off sometimes xD)


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